


eius pia intercessione

by Lasgalendil



Series: Salve Regina [3]
Category: Trust (TV 2018)
Genre: BAMF Regina, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Internalized Homophobia, Knitting, Leo: my marriage, Lingerie, Luca Marinelli Smoking Extended Cinematic Universe, M/M, Men Crying, Multi, Period-Typical Homophobia, Polyamory Negotiations, Primo and Regina: our polycule, Primo is a little shit, Sexual Humor, Socks, cinnamon roll too good too pure for this world Leo, gee Francesco how come you get two dads, sometimes family is a mother her son her husband and his husband
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:08:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27457012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lasgalendil/pseuds/Lasgalendil
Summary: “I put on silk panties for this,” Primo muttered. “Fucking unbelievable.” And—oh. He had. The collar of Leo’s shirt was suddenly very tight.“It’s rude to keep a woman waiting, darling,” Regina reminded him. “Even more so to make me mend your suit if he tears it off.”
Relationships: Leonardo & Francesco, Leonardo/Primo Nizzuto, Leonardo/Primo Nizzuto/Regina, Leonardo/Regina (Trust), Primo Nizzuto & Francesco, Primo Nizzuto & Regina
Series: Salve Regina [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2015699
Comments: 7
Kudos: 67





	eius pia intercessione

Leo stopped dead in the doorway. He had long since resigned himself to Primo appearing in the house at godawful hours of the night, helping himself to whatever he wanted, but this was a step too far. “What the fuck are you doing.” Leo demanded.

Primo raised an eyebrow. Didn’t raise himself from being sprawled next to naked in the middle of the bed. His bed. _Their_ bed. The bed he’d shared for twenty years with his wife. A wife, who—for her part—seemed nonplussed about the entire arrangement. Regina reclined against the headboard with her knitting in her lap, swaddled in her dressing gown with her dark hair up in a cap, counting stitches and all but ignoring him. “What the fuck does it look like I’m doing,” Primo asked, and took another drag from his cigarette.

“I know you’re not fucking my wife,” Leo said coldly. Primo never had any interest in women that he had seen, but _hurting_ Regina to piss Leo off or punish him? That was something Primo was more than capable of. Losing her to the violence of the Nizzuto family had been his biggest fear since he could remember, right up until the day Francesco was born.

“Maybe your wife is fucking me,” Primo leered back.

“You’re too greasy,” Regina corrected him, fingers deftly working her needles. “And I’m old enough to remember changing your diapers. I wasn’t impressed.”

Primo snorted. If a man had said that to him, he would be dead by now. But Regina? Regina had the biggest balls in all of Calabria, wore her womanhood like armor. She simply kept knitting her shawl.

Leo remained in the doorway, unamused and increasingly terrified. “Is someone going to tell me what the hell is going on?”

“Oh, Primo, you never let me hold you, no Primo, I can’t stay and fuck you again, I have a wife and son at home, Primo, I need to shower before I go home, Primo, I can’t go home smelling like this, Primo, stop breaking into my house, Primo, stop calling me so late at night, Primo, Primo, _Primo_ —” Primo panted his own name obscenely, mocking him in a high falsetto.

“I don’t sound like that.” Leo insisted. A man should not be made to feel so self-conscious in his own home—his own bedroom, even!

“Yes, you do,” Primo told him.

“Yes, you do.” Regina agreed, not looking up from her knitting.

“Regina!” Leo protested.

“Leo,” she insisted. She could see right through him. Always had.

“So what, you’re okay with this?” Leo gestured between the two of them. Primo lazily brought a hand to his face, mimed stroking a cock. Leo scowled at him. Primo grinned.

“And if I wasn’t, what could I do?” Regina tutted. “Ask him to kindly stop? ‘Yes, Signore Nizzuto, would you please stop fucking my husband—‘”

“Shh!” Leo cried ridiculously, as if what were going on between him and Primo could possibly be a secret from either her or God himself at this point. “Francesco—“

At this Primo laughed. Threw his head back and actually laughed. And that was…this was _not_ the time to find him endearing, to trace the curve of his throat, the span of his broad shoulders and bare chest with his eyes. Primo was fit and lean in a way Leo hadn’t been in many years, and what he saw in a softened man more than a decade older than himself who wore his middle age so obviously Leo would never know. Regina caught him staring, lips curling into a knowing smile. “What,” Leo demanded.

“You never looked at me like that,” Regina told him appraisingly. “I see why.” He’d worshipped her body from girlish youth to mature womanhood, desired her, lusted after her even now after all these years and the birth of their son, but he’d never once been _envious_. Or ashamed.

“So do you tell him, or do I tell him?” Primo turned to her.

“You created this problem, not me,” Regina countered, still working on her shawl. “I have said I am willing to share my husband, but if you make me drop a stitch I might just murder you.”

“It was Francesco’s idea,” Primo explained lazily. “He came to me crying, said he didn’t want to be my heir, that he didn’t want any of this, that money and power changed people, that he couldn’t believe it but he knew his beloved papa was _cheating_.”

Leo swallowed. “What did you tell him.”

“What did I tell him? What do you think I told him?” Primo exhaled a long trail of smoke. “I told him not to worry about it. Said you were fucking _me_.”

It had been easier with Don Salvatore. He’d known where the boundaries were. He supposed that’s what he deserved for falling prey to Primo’s awkward charm: You didn’t fuck your boss. You didn’t let yourself fall in love with him. You sure as hell didn’t argue with him. And yet here Leo was, old enough and wise enough—and somehow just angry enough—to know better yet do all three. “You had no right.”

The light behind Primo’s eyes went dead. “Don’t I?”

“That is the sort of thing a father tells his own son!”

“Clearly,” Regina interrupted, cutting them both off from their own stupidity and perhaps saving all their lives in the process. “Which is why you felt the need to sneak around it like a school boy.”

“What did he say,” Leo deflated, unable to look either of them in the eyes. For all his talk of family and honor Leonardo knew himself to be both a liar and a coward. He had lived with himself for lying to Regina, being unfaithful, breaking his vows; and he justified it as a thing men did more often than not, after all. But Francesco—? Confirmation be damned Francesco was still his baby boy. The thought of disappointing him—disgusting him—was unbearable.

“He said, ‘oh’. Then he asked ‘does mamma know’ and I told him she would have to be an idiot not to, and we both agreed she is not. Then he said ‘why don’t you just stay with us, then.’ He had an excellent point.”

“Which was?”

“That I am tired of you skulking off to do penance every time we fuck,” Primo growled. “You using your family as an excuse. And maybe this way you’ll stop looking at me like you think I’m going to kill your wife someday.”

“The thought had occurred to me, yes.” Leo returned drily. “You can understand why.”

“Why would I kill your wife? I _like_ Regina,” Primo argued with a purr. “She’s the brains of this outfit. She cooks. She cleans. She does the dishes. Puts up with all your romantic bullshit. You think I’m going to do any of that?”

“Oh, no, you’ll do your own laundry and dishes,” Regina informed him.

“Yes, yes, I’ll help around the house, you’ll barely know I’m here,” Primo waved her off. “So are we going to fuck, or not?” Leo wanted nothing more than to reach out and strangle him. Literally, actually (and perhaps somewhat sexually) strangle him. He ran a hand through his hair. Paced the floorboards.

Regina clucked. “Look what you’ve done—you’ve made him pensive. He will wear a hole in my rug.”

“I’ll buy you a new one.”

“That _is_ a new one.”

“Then I will buy you _an even newer one_.”

Leo sighed. Opened his mouth, thought better of it, then sighed again. He’d known Primo long enough to understand he was as infuriating as he was ineffable, and Regina? Regina was stubborn as an ox, the bravest person he knew. In all honesty, the thought of the two of them ganging up like this hadn’t even occurred to him, but together they were indomitable. This wasn’t an argument he could win. To be fair, this wasn’t even an _argument_ : they’d simply gone behind his back and come to an agreement all by themselves. Leo couldn’t say he’d ever dared let himself dream about it, but this was exactly what he had always wanted, wasn’t it? Not to live in fear, to lie, to hide? Not to feel guilt and wonder at what Regina—what Francesco—might think?

…Well. As it turned out they’d done a lot more thinking than him, and this had been their conclusion.

“Are you sure?” Leo asked her softly, tension seeping from his shoulders. “You and Francesco. Are you sure.”

“Leo, my heart, we’re your family,” Regina said. “We want you to be happy. If that means this idiot shares our bed like he shares the rest of our lives, what of it?”

Leo turned to Primo. “It’s her house,” Primo snorted. “What would I know? I’m just ‘this idiot’, so don’t look at me. Now strip.” Leo wished he had some sort of witty retort to that. Anything, really. Instead he just stared.

“Is he always like this?” Primo complained.

“Tired, old, and put upon?” Regina sighed. “With you around, yes.”

“I put on silk panties for this,” Primo muttered. “Fucking unbelievable.” And—oh. He had. The collar of Leo’s shirt was suddenly very tight.

“It’s rude to keep a woman waiting, darling,” Regina reminded him. “Even more so to make me mend your suit if he tears it off you.”

He’s not even being a tease. He’s—to say _overwhelmed_ wouldn’t do it justice. But he feels Primo’s gaze, knows he’s moments away from being cut out of his suit the same way one would flense a pig. Leo shrugged off his jacket. Undid his tie. Worked at the buttons of his shirt. Primo sat up and slunk forward to the edge of the bed, watching him hungrily over his cigarette, eyes glued to Leo’s bared skin. Even Regina had taken a predatory interest. _Gesummaria_ it was nothing he hadn’t done in front of either of them a hundred times over and more, yet here he was, sweaty and shaking like a blushing bride, fumbling with his buttons and belt like he’d never undressed himself before.

“Hmm,” Regina mused, knitting entirely forgotten and her eyes lust-dark. “He’s usually not this bashful for me.”

“It’s because he’s a sentimental idiot,” Primo bickered.

“I am also right here,” Leo reminded them.

“Yes, yes, and you’re taking your fucking time.” Just for that, Leo threw his pants into Primo’s face. Primo only wadded them up and tossed them on the floor, grinning all the while. For all his mustache and machismo he could be such an insolent child, and Leo both hated and loved him for it.

“You’re ironing those tomorrow,” Regina scolded them both, taking off her cap and hanging her dressing gown over a hook next to the bed. Then she turned to him expectantly. And— _Oh_. Her hair was coiffed, not in curlers, and she’d coordinated her sheer bodysuit to match Primo’s panties, the lace over her breasts and dark thatch of hair between her legs the same sea blue-green shade of his eyes. It was certainly _modern_ —the sort of thing one might see in gentlemen’s magazines, not expect your wife of twenty years to be hiding under her knitting. Just how long had they been planning this—?

He’s overwhelmed with the urge to sob. Tried desperately to hold himself together for the two of them. Leo didn’t know if there were a correct response to one’s wife and one’s lover putting so much time and thought into seducing you together, but he’s sure it shouldn’t be tears. They fall unbidden anyways.

“You ridiculous romantic,” Regina scolded him fondly. “Now take off your socks and come to bed.”


End file.
